The low hum of electricity in aging tube lights was just loud enough to Scott's heightened hearing to keep him distracted, which he desperately needed. It was between the sound and the smell, and, despite all descriptions he'd ever heard, Scott always thought hospitals smelt plastic. Something about the immediate sterilization of death and potential contamination rendered the air artificial and stale. This just left the hum.
"Charles?" a nurse called into the waiting room.
"Yes?" Charles answered.
"The Greys and the doctor are ready for you."
Charles patted Scott's knee and ordered softly, "Stay here."
Scott just nodded, unwaveringly nervous to be out in public with his custody still in question.
Charles followed the nurse through the lobby door and down an overlit hallway. The hall was a cacophony of variously pitched electronic tones and subconsciously emitted biological noises. Beyond the normal cacophony, a sea of desperate forethoughts swirled around Charles. He grimaced as he fought to reduce the sea to the drizzle of white noise that always plagued him.
God, just take me now. I can't take this pain.
Help! Help!
I just want to get out of here. They can't keep me against my will.
I don't want to do homework, Mom! Why would you bring it here?!
Is that... is that light for me?
"Charles?" the nurse asked, cutting through the deluge.
Charles looked around. Unknowingly, he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway and let the nurse put several yards between them. "Yes," he finally answered. "Yes, I'm sorry. I forgot how much all the... 'noise' affected me."
"Oh, that makes sense," the nurse offered kindly as Charles caught up. "I've worked here so long, I think I just tune out all the whirring and beeping." She chuckled, turned back around, and continued leading Charles to the room. I wonder if Stacy's still got earplugs in her desk, the nurse thought to herself. Charles heard and smiled to himself.
When they reached the room, the nurse put a hand out in a gentle "wait here" gesture, but the doctor immediately saw the two and ushered Charles in.
"Thank you, Colette," the doctor called out to the nurse.
Charles caught Colette before she left and said, "Thank you, Colette, for escorting me here, and I appreciate the gesture, but the earplugs will not be necessary."
Colette unfurled a smile mired by confusion. "Uh, you're welcome? I mean, you're welcome, I just, I... don't remember saying that... out... loud." Charles had beamed warmly then wheeled into the room while Colette trailed off.
"Dr. MacTaggert," Charles greeted the doctor with a stiff air of professionalism.
"Charles," Moira said softly, leaning down to hug her old friend. As Charles held back a blush, Moira continued, "These are Mr. and Mrs. Grey, and this is their daughter, Jean. Mr. and Mrs. Grey, this is world-renowned geneticist, Professor Charles Xavier."
Charles turned to face the parents and extended his hand. "Just Charles, please. I'd say, 'How do you do?' but I suppose I have an idea."
The father stood stoic, but the mother accepted the handshake. Her face was sunken and sallow, the stressful days and sleepless nights carried tidily in sparse, small wrinkles. Even now, her eyes were overly moist, but she mustered the kindest smile she could. "Elaine, and this is John."
"What's wrong with my girl?" John interjected, done with the pleasantries.
"I'm sorry to have remained cryptic, Mr. Grey," Moira intercepted as Charles rolled back to her side of the room, "but I wanted Charles here before I went into full detail. As I said earlier, the short answer to your question is that we don't know. By all means, her body is healthy and functional. All the tests indicate she is an exceptionally healthy, well cared for, 10-year-old girl. Yet, she remains comatose. So, we threw a fistful of darts at the dartboard. One of those darts was a genetic sequencing test, and your daughter tested positive for two... abnormalities."
"What kind of abnormalities?" John demanded.
Moira and Charles glanced at each other as she passed the torch. "Are you familiar with 'mutants', Mr. and Mrs. Grey?" Charles inquired.
"Oh, no," John started, "my daughter is not a mutant."
"John," Elaine interjected quietly.
"Don't you sit there and tell me that my daughter, my baby girl, is a mutant," John continued. He turned and rested his head in the corner, pounding his fist against the wall.
"John," Elaine repeated as she stepped over and started rubbing his back. "She could be both. She'll always be your baby girl, but maybe she also just happens to be a mutant."
John broke and bawled, still hanging his head, Elaine still rubbing his back.
"It's not the end of the world, John. I mean, Y2K still might be," she joked. John caught a laugh in his throat. "It's 1999 for a few more months. Don't you want to spend them with your daughter, regardless of what form she takes?"
John embraced his wife tightly. "Our daughter," he corrected himself. "I'm sorry. She's our daughter."
Elaine gripped him just as tightly. "I wasn't even worried about that," she assured him.
They released each other but held onto one another's hand. "Sorry about that," John apologized to Moira and Charles.
"No apology necessary, whatsoever," Charles accepted. Moira nodded in agreement.
"So, she's a mutant," John stated, more to himself than to anyone else.
"Yes," Charles confirmed, "but what's more confounding is that her current condition does not appear to be a result of her mutations."
"Mutations?" John exclaimed. "Plural?"
"Indeed. She tested positive for two... well, the term the news is using is 'X-gene'."
"Is that not what they are?" Elaine asked.
Charles furrowed his brow. "Not technically, no, but it would be rather pedantic of me to explain the nuances."
"Profess— Charles... we've been in the dark for over a month. I think pedantic is what we need right now."
John nodded, still grappling with the plural of "mutation".
"Very well," Charles conceded. "The term 'X-gene' implies that it is a single, shared gene that causes a mutant to exhibit abilities, that you either have the 'X-gene' or you don't. The reality is that there are numerous genes — some we have documented, some we have yet to — that cause an individual to exhibit one or more abilities. All these genes descended as mutations from a single ancestral gene, and it is that ancestral gene that I suppose you could correctly call the 'X-gene'."
"So, when you say 'mutations', you mean they found more than one of these... 'sub-X-genes'?" Elaine questioned.
"Indeed. Although, to continue my pedantry, the term we use is 'I-MOMA'. A MOMA is a mutation observable by metahuman ability, and it can either be intrinsic or extrinsic. An extrinsic MOMA — an E-MOMA, if you will — is what you read about in old comic books. A man falls in a vat of acid and suddenly has superpowers. An intrinsic MOMA is a result of these descendent genes. Theoretically, another gene in the human genome could mutate and result in metahuman ability for the host, but we've yet to discover one, so we operate under the assumption that the only I-MOMAs we're going to find descend from that ancestral gene."
John and Elaine were silent for a moment as they absorbed the outpouring of information. Elaine finally broke the silence. "So, the two I-MOMAs you found in Jean... are they ones that you've documented before?"
Charles silently passed the torch back to Moira. "Yes, they both are," Moira confirmed. "One grants the host telepathic capabilities, and the other grants the host telekinetic capabilities. Your daughter has one of the most exceptional minds ever recorded."
John caressed Jean's head. "So... so what's the issue? What's wrong with her?"
Charles cleared his throat. "I would like to offer my help in finding out. You see, I am a mutant myself."
John and Elaine's eyes grew wide.
"In fact, I share an I-MOMA with Jean. I am a telepath. With your permission, I'd like to reach into your daughter's mind and see what information I can glean that no medical test ever could."
John stood in stunned silence, but Elaine quickly recovered. "Yes. Yes, you have permission."
John snapped out of his stupor. "Elaine!"
"John, none of the other tests have worked. What's this going to hurt? Either you believe him, which means you believe what they say about our daughter and you know nothing else is going to work, or you don't believe him, which means you have nothing to lose by letting him try."
John's jaw hung in stupefaction as Elaine turned to Moira. "You only need one of our signatures, right?"
Moira nodded and handed her the clipboard. Elaine furiously scribbled her signature and thrust the clipboard back.
Charles rolled forward and, once again, extended his hand. Elaine took it with the faintest grip. "I promise to tread carefully in your daughter's mind," he assured her with firm eye contact. "I appreciate the gravity of what you're allowing me to do."
The tears swallowed any chance Elaine had to respond. She just nodded repeatedly and tightened her grip on Charles's hand.
Charles pivoted and faced Jean directly before closing his eyes. Invisibly to the rest of the room, he waded into Jean's mind. The level of forethought, the outermost level of every mind, was empty. However, he only had to dive a little deeper to find something unusual.
"I'm detecting two minds in your daughter," he relayed without opening his eyes.
"Two?" John spat.
"Has your daughter ever shown any signs of having multiple personalities?"
"No," Elaine answered calmly.
"No known mental disorders?"
"No."
"Has your daughter ever exhibited an... 'abnormal' gender expression?"
"What?" John spat.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Elaine admitted, maintaining her calm.
"Has she ever shown signs of not feeling comfortable in her own skin when it comes to being a girl? As if sometimes she's completely at home in her body and other times she's, for lack of a softer phrase, trapped in an impostor?"
"What the fuck is this?!" John demanded, looking back and forth between Moira and Charles.
"John, shut up," Elaine insisted flatly, closing her eyes to keep herself level. "No," she answered Charles. "Nothing that comes to mind. Nothing that I remember."
"That's okay, that's okay," Charles assured her. "It just means I have more to investigate." He dove deeper, past the various layers of her mind. There were many memories, an abnormal amount for a human her age, and none of them were fragmented. Each memory was pristine and complete, with uninterrupted dialogue and recollections for all five senses. Charles couldn't help but admire the power of the mind in which he found himself.
Suddenly, he broke through a barrier. He was in a mindscape, an isolated painting on an infinite white canvas. The painting was of a yard in front of a humble, suburban home. Two girls played with some kind of wind-up toy, and only one girl looked like Jean.
Charles looked down at the legs on which he stood. Anymore, the mind was the only place where Charles could walk. Unlike relearning how to walk, remembering how to walk was like remembering how to ride a bike. He strolled over to the fence and leaned against it before announcing his presence. Hello, there.
Hi! the girls both answered.
What are those fascinating toys? he inquired.
You've never seen a Sky Dancer? the girl who wasn't Jean asked incredulously.
Charles chortled. I'm afraid I don't watch much television, he admitted.
Do you want to try? Jean asked, approaching him and proffering her toy.
I suppose I shall, Charles accepted. How do I do it?
You line up the ridges on the bottom of the doll with the ridges in the launcher, Jean explained.
It never wants to go in on the first try! the other girl warned.
It really doesn't, Jean confirmed. Once it's sitting level, you just hold the launcher away from you and pull the string.
Marvelous, Charles admired. He did as he was instructed, indeed struggling to get the doll to stand level at first, then watched as the doll spun into the air, displaying a great deal of grace for a plastic figurine. Marvelous, he repeated.
Jean caught the doll as it came back down. Charles returned the launcher. Thank you so much. That was delightful. Would you two excuse me as I make a phone call?
Okay! the girls agreed before setting up another launch.
"Jean's in there," Charles revealed to the hospital room.
"How is she?" Elaine asked.
"She's fine, I believe. There's another girl in there with her."
"Is it her sister? Sarah?" Elaine suggested.
"Is she close in age to Jean?"
"No, she's five years older."
"You don't think it's...?" John quietly asked Elaine.
Elaine gasped, dropping Charles hand and covering her mouth.
"Annie," John explained to Charles.
An eyebrow rose above one of Charles's closed eyes. "Who is Annie?"
John continued, "Annie is... was Jean's best friend. Annie died the same day Jean fell unconscious. They were playing in the yard—"
"With Sky Dancers?" Charles interrupted.
Elaine fell into the complimentary recliner, totally in shock. John knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. "Yes," John finally answered. "They were playing with their Sky Dancers and Annie's drifted into the street. Next thing Elaine knew, there were squealing brakes and both Annie and Jean were flat on the ground."
Charles contemplated for a time. John continued to comfort Elaine while Moira checked her vitals.
Hey, mister?
Charles turned around to see Annie tugging on his jacket. I'm almost done with my phone call, I promise.
No, it's not that. Are you talking to my parents?
Eh— no, I'm talking to Jean's parents, actually.
Oh. Well, can you tell them it's okay?
Even in the mindscape, Charles had to hold back tears. Do you... do you know that you're dead, Annie?
Yeah, she confirmed, unfazed. That's why I want you to tell Jean's parents it's okay. It wasn't their fault. I looked both ways before crossing that street. It was the driver's fault. I don't want them to be mad at themselves, or at Jeanie.
The tears streamed down Charles's face. I'll be sure to tell them.
Thanks! Annie paused. Do you think you could call my parents next?
I will try my best, Charles promised.
"I believe I know what happened," Charles announced to the hospital room, wiping the tears out of his closed eyes on the back of his sleeve. "I believe Annie's death was such a traumatic event that it triggered an early onset burst of Jean's powers, and Jean drew Annie's mind into her own mind."
"Could we bring Annie back to life?" Moira inquired.
Charles shook his head. "I don't believe so. We are years away from cloning humans, and even then, it's the Ship of Theseus conundrum. If we put Annie's mind in a clone of Annie, does it have a soul? Is it even Annie at all?"
"Dolly was only a couple years ago," John mused.
Somewhat settled, Elaine took a breath and added, "Plus, they cremated her."
Charles sighed. "Annie wants to say goodbye to her parents."
"How is that going to work?" John bemoaned to Elaine. "They're furious at us, rightfully so."
"That's the other thing," Charles prefaced, then he relayed Annie's message to John and Elaine. There wasn't a dry eye in the room.
Several difficult conversations later, Mr. and Mrs. Richardson stood in Jean's hospital room. Moira situated Charles and herself at the foot of Jean's bed as a barrier between the two sets of parents.
"So how does this work?" Mr. Richardson asked, not wasting any time. "Do we have to hold hands or what?"
"Chris," Mrs. Richardson directed to Mr. Richardson quietly, trying to assuage his hostility.
Chris whipped around and replied through gritted teeth, "Claire, we talked about this. In and out. We're not spending longer here than we have to."
Claire rebutted gently, "If you'll recall, we also discussed the possibility that this is real. You said you'd hear them out."
Chris relented with a grunt.
"In a manner of speaking, I'll be working as a translator," Charles explained to the Richardsons, the veins above his closed eyes throbbing. "I'll talk to Annie mentally, and anything she tells me mentally, I'll relay to you verbally."
"That's not good enough," Chris insisted. "How do I know this isn't all a huge, elaborate ruse? A, a, a desperate attempt by these two," and he gestured to the Greys, "to get our forgiveness? No, I want to talk to Annie directly."
The room fell silent. Charles finally admitted, "I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Richardson."
"Why not?" Chris demanded.
"It takes an exceptional amount of mental power to hold onto a mind beyond the passing of that mind's body. I'm afraid if I brought your mind into Jean's, you'd be unable to escape. Even right now, I'm afraid that I may be unable to escape."
A small gasp escaped Moira. "Charles."
"Don't worry about me, Moira," Charles instructed, smiling through the great strain of remaining in Jean's mind. "This is about Annie and Jean."
Claire pulled on Chris's shoulder, getting him to turn around and look her in the eyes. She spoke nothing, but he knew what she said.
Chris turned back around and yielded, "Okay." He took a deep breath then reiterated, "Okay."
Annie? Charles called out in the mindscape.
Annie caught her Sky Dancer then bounced over. Were you able to call my parents? she asked with a wide smile.
Indeed! Charles confirmed. What would you like to say to them?
I can't talk to them myself?
I'm afraid not. It... it just doesn't work like that.
Jean approached the two with a cautious stride. Try, she instructed Charles.
Oh, Jean, I—
I know what your concerns are, but I... I think I can help.
Charles deliberated for several moments, then he handed the phone to Annie.
Mom? Dad? Annie hazarded.
"Mom? Dad?" Charles addressed the hospital room in his own voice.
"Annie?" Claire answered.
I heard her! I heard my mom! Annie informed Jean and Charles with a giant grin. She took her hand off the microphone and said, Hi, Mom!
"Hi, Mom!" Charles said, matching Annie's pitch and excitement.
"Hi, Baby!" Claire called out through the waterfalls on her face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine! I mean, I know I'm not coming back, but I'm okay! Jean and I have been playing with our Sky Dancers all afternoon."
"Oh, Baby," Claire started, but the waterfalls drowned her face, and she had to stop.
"Baby, it's been a month," Chris continued.
"Hi, Dad! You're here, too?"
"Of course, Annie. Of course, I'm here."
"Did you say a month?! That's so weird! It feels like only an afternoon that I've been here with Jean."
Chris took a deep breath to steady himself under his own facial flooding and called out, "Annie, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I let you go play with Jean that day. If I hadn't let you go, you'd still be here."
"Daddy, no! No, don't think like that. I looked both ways before I crossed the street. You taught me that! 'Right, left, then right again, just to double check.' It's not your fault, it's not Mom's fault, it's not Jean's fault, it's not her parents' fault. That driver came out of nowhere. They must've been flying!"
Chris and Claire embraced each other to keep from collapsing. John put his arm around Elaine. They were both crying, too, and he knew that they both wanted to embrace their friends but that they didn't want to ruin their moment. Moira softly rubbed the nape of Charles's neck with one hand.
Annie, Charles breathed with great effort, I can't stay here much longer.
"Mom? Dad? Can you still hear me?"
"Yes, Baby!" Claire responded immediately.
"I have to hang up soon. I just wanted to say 'I love you' and, well, 'goodbye'... at least for now."
"Baby, don't go!" Claire cried.
"Momma, I gotta. Besides, you taught me not to be afraid of dying. I'm not afraid, so you don't be afraid, okay?"
The sobbing resurged, but Claire choked out, "Okay, Baby."
Chris inhaled sharply then declared, "Goodbye, Annie. I love you, more than anything."
Claire found a moment of peace and called out, "Goodbye, Annie! I love you so much. So much, baby girl, so much. You know that right? You know I love you?"
"Of course, Momma! You and Daddy told me every day!"
Annie, Charles seethed.
"Bye, Momma. Bye, Daddy. I love you."
Annie handed the phone back to Charles. No longer a talking head, Charles felt the mental strain subside but not recede completely. He'd still been projecting into Jean's mind for over two hours, and it was taking its toll.
So, what now? Annie asked.
Charles put the phone away and turned to Jean. I regret to inform you that that's up to you.
Jean was bewildered. What do you mean?
Annie is here because of you. You didn't mean to, but you brought her here when you realized she...
You can say "died", Annie assured him.
Charles nodded. Jean, you brought her here when you realized she died. You might not know it, but your mind holds a great deal of power. That power is how you brought Annie here, and that power is how you need to let her go.
Jean dropped her gaze. I didn't... I didn't know that I had this... "power"... but I knew? Like, I knew the phone call would work. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.
A warm smile broke Charles's strained expression. That's normally how it starts out. I remember that exact same feeling from when my power first manifested. I assure you, Jean, it will get easier.
Jean silently accepted Charles's words with a polite smile, but her worry returned as she turned to Annie. I'm sorry I trapped you here.
Annie hugged Jean tightly. I never felt trapped. I had fun! It's just... just like you knew the phone call would work, I know I need to get going. Does that make sense?
Jean nodded into her best friend's shoulder. Yeah, it makes sense.
They released each other as Annie had an epiphany. Maybe you'll "know" how to let me go if we say goodbye.
The dam behind Jean's eyes finally broke. Annie, I don't want to say goodbye.
I know, Jeanie, but don't be sad. Don't be afraid. I'll always be with you.
Promise?
Promise.
Jean shook her hair out of her face, waved her hands to cool her face, and took a deep breath. When she was ready, she announced, Goodbye, Annie. I love you.
Annie beamed then mimicked Jean's composure and reciprocated, Goodbye, Jeanie. I love you.
The ensuing silence lasted shorter than it felt. Charles was about to say something when he noticed the epiphany wash over Jean.
It's the door, Jean told Annie. The front door of my house.
I just walk through it? Annie clarified.
Jean closed her eyes as she searched her feelings, then confirmed, Yes. She knelt down, picked up Annie's Sky Dancer, and handed it to her. Don't forget your Sky Dancer.
Will I need it where I'm going? Annie asked Jean earnestly.
I don't know, but I want you to have it, Jean insisted. It's yours.
Annie fixed her grip on her toy, gave Jean another hug, then turned towards Charles. I don't think I ever learned your name, she admitted.
Charles laughed. That's okay! My name is Charles, but please don't dwell on my presence here. I'm sure Jean will tell you all about me when she sees you again.
Annie bounced through the front gate to the other side of the fence and wrapped her arms around Charles. Thank you for everything, Charles.
Charles knelt down and hugged her back. You're more than welcome, my dear Annie.
Jean offered Annie her hand, and the two of them walked side by side across the yard and up the porch steps. They hugged each other one final time, then Annie walked through the door.
"Where am I?!" Charles demanded as he awoke with a start. He surveyed his surroundings, finding that he was in a hospital bed and that Scott was in the recliner. The TV was on, but Scott was facing Charles.
"The strain of what you did for those families severely drained you," Scott explained. "You're on fluids, but nothing's wrong. They'll let us go tonight if you stabilize by then."
"Was I successful?"
"No one gave me the whole story, but from what I can piece together, the girl is awake, and the parents made up."
Charles deflated back into the sterilized linens. "Then, yes. I was successful."
"Charles?" Moira whispered.
Charles must have fallen asleep again. The room was darker from a lack of sunlight pouring in, and Scott was curled up in the recliner under Charles's jacket, lightly snoring.
Charles finished his survey and looked back to the doctor. "Moira," he answered warmly.
"Charles, what happened? Not with you, but with Jean?"
Charles laid back and stared at the ceiling. He must have been pondering it in his sleep, because he didn't take long to find an answer. "Simple homeostasis, I believe. A biological crave for balance. Annie was a mind without a body, so, in a manner of speaking, Jean became a body without a mind. At least that's my working theory."
Moira nodded then sighed. "Mutant powers are going to test the human condition in unthinkable ways."
Charles caressed Moira's cheek with the back of his hand. "And you'll be there on the forefront, unmatched in your capacity and your drive to take care of said mutants."
Moira took his hand and pressed it into her face. "I'm glad you're okay, Charles."